


a nature spirit in the quiet with the snow

by Blacktablet (Ishamaeli)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gen, Humor, Inspired By Tumblr, Introspection, Not Really Angst Either, Not Really Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2013-09-10
Packaged: 2017-12-26 05:45:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/962304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ishamaeli/pseuds/Blacktablet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every time Dean dies, Sam inherits his belongings - including the Impala.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a nature spirit in the quiet with the snow

**Author's Note:**

> Right, so there was [this post on Tumblr](http://msfehrwight.tumblr.com/post/60762765875/preparetobemildlyentertained-4x01-and-8x01) and then I found myself writing fic instead of translating like a good little worker bee. (It is my first Supernatural fic like, evah!!11!, and my username should totally be prettyboiDean666 or something. Yes.)

Dean's dying, _again_ , but really, it's not that bad; there are worse ways to go than hypothermia, even if it is hypothermia caused by the most unnatural nature spirit he's ever run into. But hey, the falling snow looks sort of pretty from where he's lying on his back - small, fluffy tufts of snow against a sky that's a shade of black so deep it's veering right back around into deep blue instead - and he's not feeling all that cold anymore.

It's kind of okay. Peaceful.

The snow is slowly covering his legs which, by the way, Dean hasn't been able to feel for a while, and he spends a moment marvelling that he can actually _hear_ the snowflakes fall, tiny crackling whispers as the frozen miniature fractals settle on him. He licks melted snow from his cool upper lip, watches a wisp of breath curl in the cold night air before it evaporates.

Dean thinks that this might be the way he wants to go, eventually, and knows that it won't be like this, a nature spirit in the quiet with the snow. There will be some other kind of a monster, a bigger one, and he and Sam will try to stop it, with Castiel backing them up if they're lucky, and eventually the big bad will make the wrong sort of move against either his brother or his angel or both, and Dean will fling everything he's got at it to save them.

 _Them;_ not himself.

Sam will cry, because he always cries when Dean dies, and he's always crying when Dean inevitably comes back, and Christ, it's a miracle that he doesn't get massive headaches from being so dehydrated all the time. Castiel will either stand like a statue and wear the helpless expression of a guy whose kid is asking why the old family dog won't wake up, or he will flap someplace deserted and make rocks explode with his mind to work off some of the frustration and anger (at his inability to bring Dean back, at Dean's savior complex, at the ineffability of God's plan).

He's kind of tired of being stuck in the lift from Hell to earth and back again, to be honest. Sometimes he feels stretched thin, like after so many times of being put back together, his body and soul know that they're doing something they shouldn't and don't quite know how to act around each other. It feels like the most awkward first date ever, only it's endless and oh, right, it's _happening inside Dean_. God, it feels awful.

Dean exhales, blinking snowflakes from his lashes. He's having a hard time keeping his eyes open but he doesn't want to lose sight of the optical illusion that is the sky. If he tilts his head just so, he can briefly glimpse the enormity of space beyond what his brain insists is only a painted dome, admittedly _very_ far above him. It's kind of frustrating, how quickly the sense of vastness is there and gone again, but he supposes that if everyone went around seeing thousands of miles into space every time they looked up, there'd be a whole lot more people screaming at thin air in padded rooms.

Just in case he gets lucky - or not, or--anyway - and this is it (though he doubts that), Dean spares a thought for Sam, for his Dad and his Mom, for Bobby. He thinks of Cas, too, with an undercurrent of _it's okay, I know you tried, dude, it's okay you couldn't save me_ , just in case the angel is listening but unable to arrive on time to breathe life back into Dean.

Lastly, Dean sends up a general sort of wish, hoping it will be heard if it turns out that this _isn't_ the end (again) and prays that if there is anything good, anything sacred still left in the world, _this time_ someone will keep Sam away from Baby until he comes back.


End file.
